Longing & Despair
by kmart92
Summary: Mr Darcy's distraught after Elizabeth's rejection, believing his life to be over. How will he attempt to recover from his despair and redeem himself? OOC,my version of events only.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone, this is my first P &P fanfic, even though I've previously written other stories. I've been desperate to get this story out there for a while, like it's something inside me that I needed to see written down. I know where the story's headed... almost! But I can't guarantee quick updates, so I'm sorry in advance. It'll be a tale of Mr Darcy's heartbreak following Elizabeth's rejection - I warn you that he may be a little more intensely emotional than normal, but it's my portrayal of him. I hope you all like it, let me know what you think. **

**Note: Any familiar words belong to Jane Austen and the producers of P &P - not mine sadly! **

"Your manners impressed me to the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others. I had not known you a month before I realised you were the last man in the world whom I could ever marry." Her eyes flashed in deepest loathing, though perhaps a little shocked that she'd actually voiced those thoughts aloud, but her voice never wavered in conviction.

He visibly recoiled as if she'd struck him across the face. Maybe that action would have hurt him less than her words, which judging by the look gracing his features, had cut him even deeper than she'd intended. She noticed him purse his lips and take a few deep breaths, both struggling within and attempting to steady himself. The anger and shock that had initially appeared in his eyes lasted mere seconds before they gave way to stronger emotions. Despair, realisation and utter desolation - his calm facade crumbled before her and she had to look away when it appeared as though he was trying to memorise her features for one last time. Almost from the start she'd written him off as an automaton, another cold, callous inbred member of the ton, but this desperate creature in front of her certainly was overturning her judgements in this regard.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him slump, his forever annoyingly perfect posture vanished, and he dropped his gaze to the ground, heaving a heavy sigh flavoured of bitter disappointment. Slowly, she felt the taste of triumph sour in her mouth. Even during his insulting attempt at a proposal, the thought that he might truly love her had never occurred to her - as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, she begrudgingly admitted that she might be wrong in that as well.

They stood at an impasse for what seemed like hours to both of them, neither knowing how to proceed, or what words, if any, should be offered at this point.

She felt her chest heaving from emotional exhaustion and her head was pounding from the stress. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and let loose some tears to relieve the tension she felt within her. But what could she say to him? Nearly all her words that afternoon were uttered in anger towards him and she felt like there was nothing more she could give.

"Forgive me Elizabeth", his voice whispered, low and shaky. At once, her eyes whipped across to his in outrage but saw him wince immediately, his already downturned eyes closed tightly, berating himself for his slip in decorum. She bit her lip to refrain from another outburst and a second later, he amended his words. "Forgive me, _Miss Bennet_ ," stressing her name, "I... I never meant to..." but he cut himself off as his voice choked a little. Elizabeth scrutinised his face as he paused, trying to recover, to muster up the courage to continue.

There was nothing left for him now. His failure was complete. First Georgiana, that sweet darling girl, his first and foremost responsibility and he couldn't even protect her. Clearly he was sorely lacking as a brother, not to mention as both a father and mother to her, in order for her to turn to that man. And now, Elizabeth, _Miss Bennet_ , he told himself, had made it abundantly clear that he was not even a gentleman - he certainly wasn't worthy of her respect, no, not by her largely truthful estimation of his character. Everything he prided himself on, he couldn't even please the only woman he'd ever love. His heart twinged painfully at that thought. She would never love him - how could he have ever thought she would? He felt tears prick his eyes and his throat constricted even tighter as he tried to swallow. He didn't dare consider opening his mouth to say anything more in his current state, there was no way he would make it through another confession, not now that his heart had been cut open and held out for her to dispose of it as she wanted. But she didn't want it, his voice echoed in his ears. But it didn't matter to him anymore. She could throw his heart of the ground and crush it with her dainty foot and it wouldn't make a difference.

There was no use pretending he had anything more to live for. He still couldn't bring himself to look at her, to wrench his eyes off the floor to gaze at her. The coward in him wanted to avoid the anger that would no doubt be swirling in her gorgeous brown orbs, preferring instead to remember them as they were before he brought her hatred to the forefront, glittering with life and laughter and love, though not for him, his voice traitorously added. His body molded itself into a perfunctory bow before he even realised what he was doing.

Clearing his throat harshly, he steeled himself, "Forgive me, madam, for having taken up your time. And accept my best wishes for your health and happiness." As his cold words sounded through the room, her admonition rang in his ears. His strength was quickly sapping away as he managed to make his way outside, careful to avoid her piercing gaze, which had already led to his downfall. The numbness within him began to set in and once he was sure he was out of view of the Parsonage, he reached out for the nearest tree. He braced himself against the bark for a few seconds, before finally allowing his body to sag against the trunk. He folded his arms around his knees, drawing them into his chest as he stared off into the woods, hunched over and drawing in shaky breaths. Feeling something trail down his cheek, he reached up and felt the damp seep into his finger, vaguely becoming aware he was crying.

Letting his emotion and regret leak out with his tears, he tried to steady his breathing. What was he to do now? He couldn't face her anymore, not after his foolish proposal and inadequate display of love…

 **So, what'd you think? I'll try to update soon...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone, thanks so much for reading and reviewing this story, it means so much to me. To those of you who've mentioned it, yes, I'm sorry but I should have told you this story will be quite angsty for a while, but ultimately I think you'll like where I'm headed.**

 **Disclaimer: Only in my dreams do I own P &P.**

Darcy stumbled back to Rosings Park, hardly knowing where his feet were taking him. By the time he reached the steps, he realized he was again entering the dragon's den, Lady Catherine would be waiting, ready to disparage him, give him a lecture about his responsibilities and loyalty to his family above everything else. He couldn't take it, not today. Making a snap decision, he about-faced and headed quickly towards the servants' entrance. He'd just about made it to the upper floor leading to his room when a voice called him back and he inwardly cursed at the intruder.

"Darcy!' Colonel Fitzwilliam called out, striding towards him, "we'd quite despaired of you."

Darcy kept his back turned away, hoping to avoid facing his cousin, knowing he looked a wreck and couldn't handle any questions. Instead, he mumbled a noncommittal reply and kept going.

He felt a hand clap him on the shoulder and sighed in defeat. "Darcy?" He could hear the concern in Fitzwilliam's voice and it nearly brought tears to his eyes. "What's the matter?" Stepping in front of him, he took in Darcy's dishevelled and thoroughly depressed demeanour. "Good God man!"

It was too much, pushing him over the edge. Darcy ducked his head and tried to continue, making it as far as his door handle, feeling his throat constrict.

"Is it Georgiana? I swear, when I get my hands on Wickham, I'll..."

"No, it's not Georgiana." His voice came out hoarse and he winced. He cleared his throat and started again, "it's just, uh... I'm not feeling well, I was going to lay down for a while." He still couldn't bring himself to look at his cousin.

"Darcy, please," Fitzwilliam begged, softening his voice like he was talking to a child. "It's me, you know you can tell me anything. What's going on?"

"Richard..." He finally looked him in the eye and saw the concern. "I... I can't... I need to be alone, please, I..." His eyes pleaded with him not to push the issue any further. "Not now..."

"Well...If, if that's what you need. I'll take care of Lady Catherine, don't worry. Just..." He didn't know how to continue, wanting desperately to help but not knowing where to start. "I'm here."

Darcy nodded, trailing his eyes to the carpet again. "Thanks", he murmured, pushing finally through the door and barricading himself away in his room. He saw his face in the mirror and turned away in disgust. Removing his cravat and boots, but not bothering with the rest, he slumped onto the bed and curled up on his side, letting his misery at last overtake him.

...

He was vaguely aware of a servant entering a couple of times to bring a plate of food and take it away again untouched, no doubt it was Fitzwilliam's doing. He could hear Lady Catherine's booming voice at the foot of the staircase demanding for his to attend dinner and then insisting on seeing him personally once Colonel Fitzwilliam informed her that he was unwell. He heard Fitzwilliam argue against bringing in the doctor, saying he simply needed rest after overworking himself lately. Darcy dearly wished that were the case instead of the reality.

He felt tears sting his eyes again, a few drops clinging to his lashes as he clenched his eyes shut, trying to block it all out, hoping in vain to just go to sleep and wake up tomorrow with all of today's events just being a bad dream. He was weak, powerless to even so much as lift his head. He just stared out the window watching the day draw to a close.

Her words echoed in his head, repeating themselves, driving each recrimination home further, deeper. She was right, entirely right about him. He was beyond redemption. If only he could just end it now, but he felt even in that he was a coward. He couldn't do that to Georgiana, even though he questioned again what kind of brother he was. How could he ever hope to be a role model for her when he was such a failure?

Darcy's valet entered some time later and hesitated beside the bed, shocked at his master's state. He stuttered out something about changing clothes but Darcy simply shook his head, not for one moment tearing his eyes away from the window. He heard the door close a few seconds late and assumed he'd left.

Needless to say, Darcy didn't sleep at all, instead preferring to remember all the events of his life leading up to this bitter existence. He saw himself with new eyes, through her eyes, and deeply hated the man he'd become.

His arrogance, his pride, his selfish disdain for the feelings of others... In one short argument she'd summed him up completely, exposed all of his flaws so eloquently that the thought of her beautiful flashing eyes as she hurled those words at him, struck him again, leaving him gasping for air.

The next day passed in much the same way, alternating between depression and agony. Darcy didn't know which was worse, the stabbing sensation that cut through him in intervals, or the resignation he felt, the numbness that came with knowing his life was over and that he'd be forever cursed with the memories playing in his head of her rejection. He knew he'd never love another as long as he lived.

Again, the servants came and went, his valet tried prodding him with a little more effort to change his clothes and clean himself up, but nothing made a difference. For the first time since the death of his parents, Darcy felt lost with no way out. There was nothing left for him. He could see himself 20 years from now, walking around like a skeleton, a shadow of his former self.

But he wasn't angry with her, oh no. The initial anger he felt lasted mere seconds. How could he be angry when she spoke only the truth?

He knew it would only be a matter of time before his cousin would barge through the door and demand an explanation. In a way, he was surprised he'd lasted until the following day.

A knock followed by the door opening directly after alerted him to his presence.

"Darce..." He could hear the worry in his voice, the footsteps coming closer to the bed. "Please tell me what's happened. You know I can't help until i know what's wrong."

"You can't fix this," came the tired reply, his voice sounding rough, like it hadn't been used for a long time.

"Everything can be fixed, it's not the end of the world, surely."

Silence...

"I know I told Lady Catherine not to call a doctor but truly I can go right away if you need one." Fitzwilliam peered closely at his cousin's face, taking in the dark circles, the red puffy eyes, pale complexion. All he received in response was a detached shake of the head. "Have you slept at all? Because I know you haven't eaten anything. And Banes says you haven't changed your clothes or even left the bed for 2 days. What the devil is the matter?"

Darcy closed his eyes, willing the pain away. How could he tell him?

"Darce... please..."

"She hates me," came the whisper, like it was being forced out of his lips. "I can't bear it."

"Who? Georgiana? She doesn't hate you, if anything, she's grateful to you and maybe a little guilty for having been so deceived. But she would never blame you!"

Darcy shook his head. "Not Georgiana..."

"Who then?" Richard sat down on the bed, trying to wait patiently.

Darcy just looked at him in an attempt to telepathise his thoughts so he wouldn't have to say them out loud.

Richard shook his head in disbelief. "Miss Bennet?" Darcy's grimace at her name confirmed it. "I don't believe it!"

Darcy opened his mouth and shut it a couple of times before he could form the words. "I'm the last man in the world she could ever be persuaded to marry." The moment he said it, the pain hit him again and he hunched over trying to block out the light and the shock on Fitzwilliam's face.

"You proposed? Good lord man, you don't waste time, do you? No wonder you disappeared the other day without a word to anyone." The Colonel was lost in his musings for a few more seconds before he realised the effects his words were having on his cousin. "Did..." He paused, hesitating, not wishing to cause further pain. "Did she give any reason for her response?" he prodded gently.

Darcy nodded, "Many." He attempted to bury his face in his pillow and the next words came out muffled, causing Fitzwilliam to lean forward trying to hear clearly. "Our entire acquaintance has left her with a decidedly poor opinion of me. I'm sure she's cursing the day I came into her life."

"Then she cannot know the real you! If only..."

"No!" Darcy cut in forcibly. "She knows me better than I ever knew myself." He shook his head sadly, "And it's all my own doing."

"But surely...?"

"Please Richard, I can't do this anymore. It hurts too much. I don't want to talk about it." He saw Colonel Fitzwilliam open his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and simply stood, staring down at him. "I just want to be left alone Richard."

The Colonel nodded mutely and marched over to the door, pausing to look back for a moment before leaving the room.

Outside, Colonel Fitzwilliam leaned against the wall and released a long breath, pursing his lips together in thought. "Time to have a little chat with Miss Bennet I guess..."

 **Please R &R!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone, sorry for the delay! Notoriously, I'm terrible with updates but I will get there in the end. Yes, this story will be quite intense and maybe a little heartbreaking in parts, but definitely HEA, so don't panic. I have never liked re-writing part of the letter or recounting parts from the POV of a character, so this chapter is my version, kind of summarizing/glossing over it, so my apologies if you would have written it more fully. Hope you like it!**

"I've been walking in the grove some time in the hopes of meeting you..." The gruff voice that caught her ears did not belong to the one she feared meeting when she stirred out of doors this morning. Inwardly, she relaxed slightly, breathing a sigh of relief, but still curious.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam!" Elizabeth couldn't keep the surprise from her voice though she tried. "What an unexpected pleasure, I imagined you might have already left the country, so scarcely have we heard of your party in recent days."

Fitzwilliam squinted at her, narrowing his eyes to determine her genuineness, determined to think the worst of her for once. "We, of course, would not leave without bidding you farewell. No, I'm afraid illness has deprived us of each other's company." He dangled the bait, waiting to see her reaction.

Concern flooded her features. Despite their odd exchanges, Elizabeth had no desire to see any of that house suffer, _'Charlotte would of course need to hear of this. It's surprising Mr Collins hasn't mentioned this, he would be most distraught and attentive..._ ' "Oh dear, I do hope Lady and Ms de Bourgh are being well taken care of and it's nothing serious. I'm sure Mrs Collins would be only too grateful to be of use."

"You're most kind." Richard replied automatically, yet he knew she really cared about their welfare. But this was the difficult part. "I'm afraid it is serious, but it's not the de Bourgh's who deserve your concern, but Darcy..." He paused long enough to let it sink in, and register the look of shock on her face, before he continued. "He has been bedridden, refusing food and hardly drinking much at all, not talking to anyone, by all accounts wasting away." He watched as she turned away abruptly, suddenly eager to leave her walk and this conversation far behind. He knew if he were to get anywhere, he needed to be direct, no point in beating around the bush. "I don't suppose you would hazard a guess as to his current predicament?" There, that stopped her retreat.

Elizabeth steeled herself, clenching her jaw. She turned to face him, determined and angry. Just _what_ had he told his cousin? This could only bring humiliation on both of them. "I beg your pardon, Colonel, but it is none of my concern what is troubling your cousin. If he has said something that might indicate that I am involved somehow, he is sorely mistaken. And I would appreciate it if you no longer subjected me to further impertinent questions!" She could hardly believe her nerve in talking to him that way, but her anger got the better of her. Again she turned away.

Colonel Fitzwilliam almost smirked at the fire in her eyes and in that moment, he understood how Darcy had been hooked. He strode to cut in front of her. "You are mistaken, Madam, this matter very much involves you and as I'm one of the few people in this world who genuinely cares about Darcy and hates to see him suffering, I'm afraid you will have to deal with me, as I refuse to let this drop." She defiantly put her hands on her hips, ready to defend herself. "I know not what has passed between you, but I have not seen Darcy in such a bad way since the death of his parents, and I will not allow him to deteriorate before my eyes."

A brief flicker of pain crossed her eyes as she looked away. Of course, she had no desire to see him in pain, but no doubt it would pass in a few days, perhaps he wanted the sympathy, maybe it was a ploy to get her to change her mind. Elizabeth found herself saying weakly familiar words. "I never wished to cause anyone pain, believe me, it was most unconsciously done and I'm sure will be of short duration." She tried to side-step him but he blocked her once again and she realised he would not be put off.

"If only that were the case... But I know Darcy almost better than I know myself and I can see the effect you have had on him." Richard fixed her with a sympathetic look, softening his gaze. "Miss Bennet, I have no wish to pry and I do apologize for the intruding nature of our discourse, but I see no alternative. Please, he has given up on everything, even living, and I can't help him get through this until I know what happened." He could see her wavering slightly, perhaps the guilt of affecting him so was distressing her. "I assure you anything you say will be held under the strictest confidence." Still she held her tongue, weighing up the options and the silence was bothering him. "I beg of you, I must know, please, tell me what has led him to this current state."

He saw her mind was conflicted and prayed that her unselfishness would tilt the scales in his favour. Finally, after what felt to be minutes, she frowned in defeat.

"Though we do not see eye to eye on many matters, I do not wish Mr Darcy harm. I am prepared to tell you as much as I can if you have determined that it will help your cousin. But please, I must be assured that this matter will not spread any further." Receiving a curt nod, Elizabeth sighed, "You are vaguely aware, no doubt from our conversations, of how Mr Darcy and I became acquainted. Nevertheless, it is there that i must start this account. I will try to include any pertinent details, though I would rather sooner forget them if I could. Please, if I must go through this, do not interrupt me. I am sure you will have many questions, but I do not wish to linger any longer than necessary."

"I concur Madam," The Colonel bowed in agreement, "might I suggest that walking could help relieve the seriousness of our topic." Taking her arm, he led them at a steady pace down her favourite path.

"The first time I ever saw Mr Darcy was at a ball held in Meryton, a town very near my home in Hertfordshire..."

Elizabeth knew not how long they walked the paths, but it felt like hours. What started off as a very stilted and awkward conversation, quickly built into a long and complex narrative. Soon she recalled all of his looks and actions, and was at once torn anew between disgust at his arrogance, and a slight feeling that Charlotte had been right all along. Many times, she felt herself too animated on certain subjects, particularly her sister, and was too caught up in her annoyance to notice her companion had visibly tensed at the mention of Mr Wickham, thought true to his word, he said nothing until the end. Elizabeth couldn't deny the relief that came from venting her frustrations, and being more relaxed, she finally allowed her mind to accept that maybe, in certain minor respects, she had been a little too harsh on Mr Darcy. No doubt his cousin would extol his virtues, but in essence, she believed she knew his character as well as she would want to. Taking a moment or two to catch her breath, she could now sense the shift in mood in her companion and braced herself for the questions to follow.

His mind was in turmoil. So many times, Colonel Fitzwilliam had wanted, needed to interrupt, but he restrained himself. Wickham! Of course, he would somehow be involved in this. But no, that wasn't all, and he admitted to himself that his cousin had played his part in this mess. Sure, he knew him better almost than anyone else, and knew why he acted and reacted like he did, but how could she be expected to do the same? From the moment of their meeting, their whole acquaintance had been doomed, with one slip of his cousin's normal gentlemanly behaviour to blame for the start of his woes.

Lost in his thoughts of how to rectify this situation and begin the long process of redeeming his cousin, Fitzwilliam only snapped out of it when he hear Elizabeth cough gently. Furrowing his brow and pinching the bridge of his nose, he didn't know where to start, but had to try. She was a genuine soul, and intelligent, soon she would realise the truth. _She had to._

"Well uh..." Richard stopped almost as soon as he had begun, trying to focus his mind on one thought at a time. "I appreciate your candour, Miss Bennet, and indeed I can understand your point of view. I will not do you the discourtesy of saying you are mistaken, for I believe you have every right to feel as you do. I will not attempt to justify my cousin's actions to you, that will be his duty, however, as you have so kindly explained everything you could to me, please allow me the chance to sketch my cousin's character more fully. There are things you must be made aware of." Fitzwilliam stopped in the middle of the path without realizing, so focused on how he could remedy this, but for the moment, only one thing kept forcing its way into his memory, Wickham! She must be warned before all else.

"Colonel," Elizabeth started softly, prodding him a little, "I know this means a great deal to you and it is only fair that you should explain what you can. Though I am not sure how this will change matters, I am prepared to listen. But please, if I am not intruding, something seems to be troubling you. Would it help to start there?"

"Perceptive too," Richard quirked the side of his mouth in a slight smile, though it didn't reach his eyes, "with every passing moment with you, I begin to understand my cousin even more so." He swiped a hand over his face, grimacing, "Forgive me, I have no wish to punish you or make you uncomfortable." Seeing her gently shake her head, he assumed he was forgiven his slip, and tried to start again. "I trust you implicitly, Miss Bennet, as I'm sure Mr Darcy does also. But nevertheless, what comes next must never be repeated to anyone. What I have to say concerns the naivety of my young and altogether too trusting cousin, Georgiana, and a person whom it seems we both are unfortunate enough to know, Mr Wickham." If it wasn't for the seriousness of the topic, he would've been pleased with his dramatic introduction and the wide-eyed reaction from his audience. "I, along with Darcy of course, am a guardian of Georgiana, and as such, I am fully aware of all the particulars. I cannot bear to think of how much more I could've done... but I digress. I feel you must be made aware of the true circumstances of our acquaintance with George Wickham..."

 **Let me know what you think! ENJOY!**


	4. Chapter 4

"Good God!" She gasped, "But how can that be?!"

Colonel Fitzwilliam bristled, "Miss Bennet!"

Elizabeth recollected herself and cut him off before he could fully express his horror at her thoughtless outburst. "Forgive me Colonel, I can understand your low opinion of me considering all you have just revealed, but I would like to think even I could not sink so low as to doubt your honesty." She watched as he thought better of speaking his mind and allowed her the chance to explain her reaction, merely inclining his head a little in permission. "I apologize heartily for my words just now, I never intended them to be a slight on your character or doubting your story in the slightest, I am quite simply in shock. I cannot..." Elizabeth shook her head gravely, wholly disgusted with herself. She continued, almost mumbling to herself, "I, who pride myself on being such a good judge of character, so pleased with my cleverness and wit..." She wrung her hands despondently.

"There is no need to be too hard on yourself, believe me, many young women, and men for that matter, have been taken in, as I am only too aware." Fitzwilliam gave a wry smile, trying to placate her, pleased at her reaction and mollified by her guilty countenance. "He can be quite charming, it's hard sometimes to see through his lies."

"But Miss Darcy! How could he?!" The Colonel had to resist from smiling when he saw her little hands curled into fists, then her face changed into sweet concern. "How does she fair now? I dare not hope she is fully recovered, but is she well enough considering everything? Where is she now? I cannot imagine going through all she has suffered, but I hope she has found some comfort in her family and friends."

"I thank you for your concern, Miss Bennet, I expected no less from your generous heart." He smiled down at her kindly, but she waved away the praise.

"How could I think otherwise? Poor thing!"

"I confess, she is not doing as well as we would like. She almost became a recluse, a shell of her former lovely self, feeling so racked with guilt. No matter what Darcy or I say to her, nothing seems to shake her from this melancholy. But her new companion, Mrs Annesley has lately been able to bring some consolation. But it will take time for her to trust herself again, let alone anyone else. Poor Darcy was at his wits end, trying to be there for her but not knowing how to fix it. 'Tis why he ventured to your part of the world, to give her some peace and quiet."

"I only wish there was something I could do to ease her mind." Elizabeth pondered this for a few minutes, but came to no decision. Still overwhelmed by all she heard, suddenly she felt fatigued, and when she looked up, was surprises but grateful to find herself in front of the parsonage. "Thank you for telling me, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Though I know I don't deserve this confidence you have placed in me, I swear I won't breathe a word of this to another soul."

"I never doubted it." He released her arm and gave a bow, struck anew by how perfect a woman she was for any man, but more particularly for his cousin. He would do whatever he could. "Miss Bennet, may I beg another favour of you? Many things have made Darcy the man he is today, someone who I call not only my family, but my best and most loyal friend. I don't intend to force you to change your mind about him, but please give me leave to tell you more about the man you have professed such a dislike for. Once you know all, I will not interfere again, but I feel I cannot let you go without pleading the case on his behalf." He held onto her hand, looking into her eyes, willing her to say yes.

Immediately she went to say no, but something in his tone and eyes made her stop to think. Her heart beat a little faster and a voice whispered in her head that she had already misjudged him once... "Very well, Sir, I agree." Elizabeth lowered her gaze slightly when he heaved a sigh of relief. Clearly this meant so much to him. "Perhaps at the same time tomorrow by the old tree?" Without saying any more, she headed through the vicarage gate, only pausing to nod a goodbye as she reached the door.

Richard tipped his hat and turned to head back to the old house, a little spring in his step. He could fix this, he was sure of it. But in the event nothing changed, he couldn't tell his cousin, not yet.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite the best efforts of Colonel Fitzwilliam and indeed, the entire household staff of Rosings Park, with and without orders issued from Lady Catherine, Mr Darcy would not be moved. Literally. Apart from occasionally needing to relieve himself, Mr Darcy wouldn't leave his bed, let alone his room. He refused all food and would drink water only when necessary or if pressed, and lay curled up away from the door, staring blanking at the heavy curtains blocking out all sunlight from the room. But he didn't sleep, he kept replaying her words and tone of voice in his mind, worse than a nightmare. The Colonel tried everything he could think of to rouse him from his present state, with no success and by the time 8 days had passed, he was seriously concerned, noting again his cousin's sunken eyes and fragile body becoming weaker and weaker as the days dragged on. But what could he do? He rebuffed all help and wouldn't hear any mention of Elizabeth after that first day. As for Darcy, he knew her words rang true and knew that even if she never forgave him, never wanted to see him again, he had to change himself, to be a better man, to be the kind of man she could respect. But the longer he dwelt on it, the harder it became to commit to action, to even conceive of facing the world again.

...

Elizabeth ambled along the path that was so well known to her now, gently pulling a wild flower from the grass and admiring its petals. It was the part of each day she looked forward to the most now and her curiosity couldn't be sated. What had started out as apprehension, soon gave way to questions and filling her mind with all kinds of information she never dreamt of learning about Fitzwilliam Darcy. Inhaling the scent, and closing her eyes as she absorbed the sunlight, Elizabeth's mouth quirked up in a smile. What a quandary he was, such a contradiction of stern and kind, though she hadn't realised that part of his personality until very recently. The Colonel had been most diligent in his information, sometimes too direct and she could sense him analysing her reactions to his tales. But her favourites were always stories of them as boys at Pemberley, running amok, getting each other into and out of all kinds of mischief. In the more sombre moments, after hearing of losing his parents and the responsibility loaded onto his shoulders, Elizabeth mourned the loss of his childhood, cut off so abruptly, and couldn't deny the guilt that washed over her.

Did she have to be so cruel? Of course, his proposal was sorely lacking, but did she have to deliberately try to hurt him? She didn't know, couldn't have known all that she knew about him now, but she couldn't help but feel remorse in her poor manner of refusal. Not the refusal itself, her mind insisted, she was perfectly right in her refusal.

Her footsteps paused briefly as she happened upon the Colonel in his usual spot by the tree, but this time, the shadow over his face concerned her. He looked lost in thought and worried.

"Where is my usual jovial companion this morning?" Elizabeth joked, trying to lighten the mood, "what stories are on the agenda today?" When he turned to face her, frowning and worried, she immediately hurried forward. "I hope it's nothing serious?" Her voice was gentle but demanding answers.

"Indeed, I hardly know what to tell you, Miss Bennett, I thought it would only be a matter of time before he snapped out of his melancholy and decided on a new course of action, but he has not. Nor does he look like he will anytime soon." Colonel Fitzwilliam grimaced and turned away, searching for his words. "Please believe I don't blame you for this, but every time I see him, I feel that he's wasting away. He's not the same person he was and I'm..." She felt helpless as he choked back a sob, "I'm scared that he's given up. He hasn't eaten for more than a week and he looks so frail..." He look up to see her pained expression, "Forgive me, I didn't mean to burden you with this."

"No, please don't be anxious on my account. I'm prepared to accept my part of the blame in this whole affair." Elizabeth wrung her hands, unconsciously destroying the flower in the process. "I only wish this had never happened."

"So do I." The Colonel sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I find I am not myself today, Miss Bennett. Will you forgive me if I cut short our meeting today? I should like to tend to my cousin if I can."

"But of course." She dipped habitually into a curtsey, "Please tell me what I can do to help, though I fear it won't be of much use." Elizabeth laid a hand on his arm, giving it a quick squeeze of support before she removed it again. "Until tomorrow?" Seeing his nod, she turned away and started back down the path, going several metres before she stopped again and turned back. "Colonel!" she called out and waiting until he looked at her, all at once seeming tired and much older than his years, "I'm sorry," she almost whispered, casting her eyes downwards.

"I know," came his soft reply and then he left, disappearing into the trees.

A tiny splash of water dropped onto her cheek and Elizabeth found she was crying. It was all her fault.

...

Colonel Fitzwilliam returned to Rosings Park only to find the servants scurrying around like scared mice and the bellowing voice of his aunt echoing through the halls.

"Enough!" the screech sounded out, "I will not accept this behaviour any longer. I am quite put out!" Lady Catherine entered the room with a thunderous expression on her face, waving her handkerchief towards him. "He refuses to behave like a gentleman and do his duty to me. I will not have my routine interrupted. I will force his hand."

The Colonel looked grim, "I know you are only looking out for him, Aunt Catherine, but really, I think he needs more time. I don't know what we can do..."

"Laziness!" She cut him off abruptly. "Idleness! I would never have expected it of him. You, on the other hand." Lady Catherine scowled at him and he tried not to take it personally. "I have asked the Collinses and their guests to dine tomorrow night. Shake him out of this ridiculous behaviour and start performing his duty as my nephew again."

Colonel Fitzwilliam cringed, trying to think up a plausible excuse. "Aunt, do you think that's wise? I mean perhaps it is better not to involve others in our business?"

"Nonsense! They are all indebted to me, they will do my bidding." She began to walk off as though the conversation were finished, leaving Fitzwilliam to chase after her.

"But suppose Darcy is really ill? You would not want to expose your guests to his sickness, would you? I know how you care for everyone's well-being..." He was grasping at straws and knew by the look on her face that it was hopeless. He didn't relish the task of informing his cousin.

"Really Fitzwilliam! I am surprised at you! Darcy is spoiled and we are indulging him too much. That is all. And I beg you not to contradict me any further!" Lady Catherine turned her nose up at him and with a click of her fingers, summoned a servant who was unlucky enough to have walked by. "Now make yourself useful and tell Darcy that he will be expected for dinner tomorrow night at 7 o'clock sharp. I shall brook no refusal!"

He bowed in submission as she stomped away, commencing barking orders yet again.

"Once more, unto the fray", the Colonel muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. This was not going to go down well...

...

The smallest flicker alerted him that Darcy had actually heard him enter and begin the conversation, but still no response. With a sigh, he continued, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

"So she has invited the Collinses and their guests for tomorrow night." Nothing, not even a twitch of an eyelid. Well, looks like he would have to spell it out. "Which means Miss Bennet will once again be gracing our presence." There! That did it, the look of horror and almost immediate paling. He jerked around to face his cousin in disbelief. At least he got a reaction, the Colonel supposed.

"No" it was a whisper but the force behind it made him grimace.

"I'm sorry Darce. I tried my best to get you out of it but..."

"I'm not going." His face was both fierce and scared. "I won't see her again".

"Darcy, I'm telling you, you don't have a choice. Lady Catherine will not leave you alone, I firmly believe she will come and drag you down kicking and screaming herself if need be, but you must be there."

"Fitz... I can't..." Darcy sounded broken, like a shell of his former self. Completely empty.

"I know." He sank down on the bed beside him and put a hand on his shoulder tentatively. "But it won't be all that bad, I promise..." He had been hesitating for a long while, but knew he needed to come clean. "I've been talking to Elizabeth, er, Miss Bennet." At Darcy's look of surprise and hurt, he quickly continued. "I was concerned about you and you didn't want to talk so I needed to find out just how bad it was!" Still he looked betrayed.

"But she was like you, didn't want to talk about it. So we talked about other things, happier things."

"And just how long have you been having these conversations with her?" His voice shook a little and held a note of bitterness.

"It's not what you think, cousin, I would never do that to you." Darcy looked away in despair. "She held a misguided view of you, I gather, and I set out to correct her." His head whipped around again to stare at him and Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked a little. "I believe I have started to soften her annoyance at you. She's a very curious girl, always full of questions!" He watched as a small smile ghosted across his cousin's face. "I've been regaling her with stories of our childhood adventures."

"Does she...?" Darcy could hardly form the words, not sure what he wanted to say. Did she still hate him? Would she speak to him again? Could she ever bring herself to forgive him?

"I don't really know what she thinks, honestly," Fitzwilliam rubbed at his chin, grinning. "She doesn't reveal much about herself. Must be a great card-player, I imagine."

Darcy shook his head with a smile, lost in memories, "She doesn't like cards..."

He let him reminisce for a few moments longer before he ventured the next remark. "I'm sure she will be happy to see you at dinner. Perhaps there can be a truce..."

He didn't say anything in reply, but the Colonel could already notice a difference in his posture, as though a weight had been lifted and there was hope. He left him staring out the window and decided to take another walk. Maybe he would see Miss Bennet again and prepare her a little for the following night. He wouldn't despair of a happy ending just yet...


End file.
